le temps viendra, je anne boleyn
by kkmine
Summary: AU. When Anne returns back to England she doesn't realize that destiny has something else in stored for her other than a boring life as the wife of a minor Irish lord.
1. part i

part i

She returns to England (her homeland) for the first time in seven years since her departure years, years, years ago. She feels no relief or joy in leaving behind the familiarity of the French court and instead feels a heavy, sickening pull of her stomach the closer she is to the shores of Dover. _Anne Boleyn is finally home,_ she thinks as she lands taking her very first step on English soil. The sky is grey with dread, the air damp and wet, and her heart clenching with sadness.

She returns (called and demanded back) because of her father's ambition. She is to wed a distant Irish cousin to regain control of her father's rightful title. The Irish cousin that was all but meant for Mary before she had become the Duke of York's mistress and got pregnant with his bastard. A _bastard son_ that her father desperately prays for to wash away Mary's blemish.

And so she sits on the bumpy hard carriage taking her towards Hever, towards her future, her destiny as she watches the English landscape pass by her eyes in a blur of wet greens and greys. Her future as hopeful as her thoughts.

—

She is presented to Court as Perseverance in front of her future husband, the Imperial Portuguese ambassadors, and the English royal family. Her father hopes that he can give her the grandest appearance to capture her husband's attention, _to capture all of England! _So she smiles and plays the pretty, captivating French girl for all to see. She dances, twirls, laughs with all her hope.

From the corner of her eyes she thinks she can see James, at least she hopes it's James, in the crowd with his red hair next to the Portuguese ambassadors. So she flashes him her greatest, most captivating French smile to ensnare his heart, cloud his mind, and capture his whole being in that one minuscule second she faces him. A smile meant to wash away the disappointment of a dark haired and brown eyed Anne instead of the sunny ever pleasing blonde hair and blue eyed Mary. The second passes and she turns away her smile now set in a small, hard, thin line as she retreats back to the castle.

With her back turned to the crowd, Anne doesn't realize that her one smile has not only captured the heart of her betrothal but someone else too. A man with dark steady eyes sitting under the glory of the sun watching Anne and smiling to himself all too pleased with what he has seen.

—

She receives a letter tucked underneath her morning bread and ale that she hardly notices until she picks up the bread. There is no wax seal or emblem to tell her the identity of her secret admirer. In the letter written in tidy neat letters confesses to how _her beautiful eyes hooked his heart _on the fateful March day at Green Castle, of how he thinks of her every waking moment, of his desire to capture her, and of his pure innocent admiration for her.

She burns the letter, alone in her private chambers, fingers shaking and heart trembling. She doesn't leave her seat until the crisp white letter is turned into black ashes of a _gone, never existed _letter.

Her morning bread and ale sits untouched on its shiny inconspicuous plate as Anne leaves her chamber with her brows furrowed in a tight line.

—

Anne continues to receive these letters with her morning bread and ale. The second time she sees the small folded letter under her morning bread she drops her bread. Not wanting to see the letter or to acknowledge it she burns it without opening it this time. Her bread no longer edible Anne looked forlornly into the distance as she drinks her ale and her stomach churning.

The third time she sees the letter, she burns it like the first and second. This time she makes sure to not drop her bread so that at least she can use it to settle the unease in her stomach.

The eleventh time she sees the letter she isn't even surprised anymore. The letters come every day tucked underneath her morning bread hardly noticeable unless you were to pick up the bread but very noticeable to kitchen maid or _whoever _was putting these _very secret _letters there.

The twenty-first letter she sees she too burns the letter like all the rest. Today she stops, just for a moment, with the letter clutched in her in hand as she brings it to the flames. The hot burning fire of the candle is just so close that the flames are flickering out like it's reaching out for a _nice secret love letter_ to burn.

The fortieth letter she sees she doesn't burn it right away. She opens the letter and in the same tiny neat letters writes of his respect for her, of how she stands tall and unwavering amongst the awful, nasty, hurtful gossip about her French ways, her sister, and her suppose morals given her associations, and most of all her delightful laugh. She savours the letter and the words, "_but I can see and know with the greatest depths of my heart that these rumors, gossip are falsely, filled with most slanderous words meant to discourage, hurt you in the most vicious and villainous ways - do not take them to heart for it will greatly displeased me and despair my soul knowing you are not the most happy"._

The fortieth-seven letter she receives she keeps it locked up in a secret box hidden behind an inconspicuous loose brick just underneath her bed.

—

She's on the hundredth letter when her father calls off her betrothal to James never explicitly telling her why and besides _it was never a formalized legal binding contract _or so her father says. She doesn't complain and soon she brushes the matter away with a flick of her metaphoric broom to focus on more pressing matters such as the one of her secret admirer.

The kitchen maid, Susan, that brings her morning bread and ale must _must _know that there's this _very secret, very forbidden_ letter just hiding underneath but she doesn't betray any hints that she knows… _yet_. Each day, day after day, Susan comes and knocks on her door to present her the morning's meal and hands it to her before curtsying to leave. Anne is left bewildered and highly suspicious for very obvious reasons.

She has pondered it over and over again especially when she's task to set up Their Majesty's breakfast making sure that the small vegetable fork is placed next to the meat fork for eating, the soup spoon just slightly left to the butter knife but never beside the cutting knife for very important reasons, and that the seat pillows are fluffed to their very most fluffiest for maximal comfort. She even got a small but very nice compliment from His Majesty on the splendid job for fluffing his seat pillow! It at least made up for the snide glare directed to her by Her Majesty. Just because her sister was pregnant with the Duke's baby and his Duchess was Her Majesty's niece didn't mean that by giving her awful snooty looks would suddenly make Mary not pregnant. Surely it would be much easier to get the Duke to stop his philandering ways instead!

No matter how much pondering, _subtlety_ asking, and squinting her eyes at anyone who so much as looks at her Anne is no closer to finding her secret admirer than was when she first decided to keep the letters. By her hundred-twelve letter she is stuck sitting in her chamber, like a fool day after day, looking at all the letters for a clue, a hint, or just anything of something that would just at least tell her how communicate back.

Under the cast of the warm fire burning and crackling in its little hearth, Anne widens her eyes and her mouth forming into a delicate round _oh, oh! _With determination setting in as she smiles the same very alluring and captivating smile of hers that had obviously captured someone's soul, she knows what she must do.

The next morning when Susan comes just as she does day after day, Anne is ready and hands her a very small and very discrete letter of her own. Susan merely raises her left eyebrow and then with eyes twinkling drops into a deep curtsy.

—

Anne never really found out who the secret admirer was but now she could write at least write back. Susan, obviously in the pockets of her wealthy and influential admirer, served as their go between. Anne was very embarrassed that on the next day Susan had come with a smile rather than her usual bland boring expression.

Her cheeks were so redden that His Majesty even expressed concern for her health and then promptly excused her from the rest of her duties for the rest of the day. Her Majesty wasn't pleased with His Majesty interference to which His Majesty replied rather blandly that now she understands how he feels. Not wanting to be a part of that mess Anne retreats as quietly and quickly as she can. She spends the rest of her day in her chambers wondering and dreaming of her handsome charming secret admirer. He never reveals anything but Anne thinks he's a little arrogant, a little spoiled, and a little (a lot) lovely.

When she writes her thirteen letter to him she gets another letter from her mother asking for her presence as Mary enters her confinement period. They – mostly father – writes, prays, hopes, wishes into existence that Mary gives birth to the Duke's bastard _son_. And so she excuses from Her Majesty's service without showing her fear under Her Majesty's deathly glare so that she could help (serve) Mary. She packs all her luggage along with her treasured secret letters tucked in its own secret compartment and then left for Hever Castle.

—

The whole time she's here she's stuck in a hot, stuffy, and dark room because someone (cursed them!) decided that these conditions were the most ideal for birthing a royal – albeit bastard – child. As if she doesn't already hate everyone – mostly father – for demanding that she be at Mary's beck and call to ensure that the child is healthy and born a _son_ she will most definitely hate Mary at the end. She's also starting to think that her father's going mad if he doesn't stop shouting 'bastard _SON!_' after every mention of the child. As if anybody that so suggests that the child is anything but a son it would curse the Boleyn family with the cruelest of fates by having Mary give birth to a girl. As if having a living breathing _healthy_ daughter was worse than a weak sickly legitimate prince.

And so Anne goes and does her best not to roll her eyes and make a face when Mary asks for more asparagus and especially to not shove the pillow in her face when it needs to be fluffed again. All in all, Anne can't wait till Mary finally gives birth and she can return back to Court. She wonders if her secret admirer is still writing daily to her or if he's stopped and waiting for her return. She's certainty still writing to him every day that she can hardly hide her own letters in the secret compartment. She just needs to make sure that George stays out her room and very, very far away from her luggage.

By the time she begins her fortieth-nine letter, Mary has gone into labour and they were just now hours away from the child's birth and the fate of the Boleyn's future. She never finishes the letter having been rushed away by the ladies hired by the Duke and in haste left the letter on her drawing table.

Fourteen hours into Mary's labour, Anne is exhausted, tired, and just wants to end her misery. The room never felt more hotter, darker, and damper than ever as she crouches by Mary's left with her mother across on Mary's right both holding onto Mary's hands as she screams, cries, and pushes to bring the Duke's bastard into the world.

She's trying to follow her mother's lead and whispering encouraging words to Mary but she's just so tired that she can barely pay attention to anything but the pain exploding in her hands. After a particularly painful agonizing squeeze Anne can barely recognize how quiet the room is before the sounds of a baby's cry rings through. The midwife carrying the baby in her arms congratulates Mary on the birth of a healthy son. Mary bursts into tears as she asks for the baby. The dread and tiredness in Mary is all but wiped away when the baby is placed in her arms.

At this very moment Anne knows that from now on the lives of the Boleyn family will forever be changed.

—

She's so tired from the ordeal that she doesn't have time to think of anything but sleep when she collapses on her bed. She doesn't even notice that her fortieth-nine letter is no longer on her drawing table or that her room is slightly astray. Anne just sleeps peacefully with a small content smile on her face knowing that everything is over.

When she wakes the next morning she writes her fiftieth letter with her morning meal waiting as the ink dries before putting away in its secret compartment. She has a long day ahead of her with the baby's christening later in the afternoon and entertaining the Duke's party that had arrived earlier this morning. Anne has never seen her father more happier than today and if she can trust George happier than the day he was chosen to carry the canopy for the Prince of Wales' christening.

Anne stays close to her mother as the priest baptizes the baby with holy water watching the joy on the Duke's face when the babe cried out signalling that the devil had left. This small child was the very image of his father and the only son to be born to the Duke and would surely be loved by his father. She prays that the Duchess and Her Majesty would show mercy towards the innocent child.

—

The day before Anne is set to return to Court, she has been order to her father's study. He stares at her unmoving in his seat as Anne stands unsure what to do. She waits for an eternity and seven for her father to do something or say something before he just merely dismisses her with a flick of his hand. George says nothing when she asks him if he knew why father had called for her. He only shakes his head vehemently denying anything leaving her a little suspicious but by dinner with the matter long forgotten Anne doesn't notice the secret worrying look shared between her parents.

She returns to Court the following day after leaving behind Mary and the baby, Hal. They are to stay at Hever until Mary has recovered her strength where she is then expected to move to the Duke's country estate up north to raise the child away from the harmful and polluted London air.

She is not surprise when she had been reassigned to the elder Princess Mary's household given the awkward situation. She would hardly be please herself if one of her ladies-in-waiting's sister had given birth to the son that her own niece has tried for years to do. But at least she had been given a private chamber again which only meant that she could still receive her letters in secret away from prying eyes and ears.

The very next morning, as if nothing had changed, Susan comes knocking on her door presenting her with the morning ration of bread and ale and her secret letter. Grinning to her Anne exchanges the meal with her very own letter.

—

Christmas season was fast approaching when Anne woke with a strange feeling of anticipation brewing in her stomach. The English weather had finally turned chilly and cold but no one paid heed as everyone was focused on the Prince of Wales' return to Court to celebrate his thirteen birthday. Known as the Christmas' babe the young prince was born in the early wee morning hours of Christmas after the Queen had suffered a long and hard labour. His birth was truly a Christmas present to all of England after the Queen had miscarried another prince the year previously.

This morning's letter came no differently than all the others but Anne felt that Susan was acting different. There was just something about her smile that made Anne feel like something was fluttering at the edges of her stomach. She could hardly finish her morning meal only taking small nibbles of her bread in between sipping her ale.

Her eyes widen as she blinks once, twice, thrice, the letter slipping out her grasp and landing silently on the table. Her secret admirer had asked - no pleaded - that she would grant him his greatest desire by agreeing to meet him in two days' time during the noon meal in the private gardens.

Anne sits still and unmoving reading the letter over and over again. Her eyes weren't deceiving her and he had finally asked to meet! The knocking on the door brought Anne out of her disbelief as she quickly shoves the letter under the meal tray.

When she returns back to the table and firm in her resolve she writes the two words (yes, please) that would change her world. Placing a quick kiss of luck she tenderly hides the letter inside her third (_third!)_ secret compartment along with this morning's letter.

—

Sitting on a small and awfully cold marble bench with her clock wrapped snugly around her, Anne waits hidden behind a rather large bushery. If she hadn't received instructions on how to find the spot she would have surely missed it and then she would have never met her secret admirer. The air was frigidly cold making her wish that her secret admirer had chosen a warmer place to meet instead. Exhaling a sigh of uncertainty she could see the small cloud of breathe slowly dispersing into the cold air.

She was surprised to see how easily it was to leave during the noon meal given her duties but she gather it was more due to the fact that the princess was called by Their Majesty's to join them on their meal. Regardless of the reason Anne was glad that could leave and finally put a face to the man she's been writing to in the past last six months.

The noon bell chiming behind her started Anne out of her thoughts. Looking up the familiar clanging the bell had faded into a quiet twinkle in her ear as her heart thumped beating loudly leaving her breathless at the sight in front of her. Standing in his thick fur coat with a gleaming crown of jewels on his head were a pair of dark and steady eyes striking fear into her soul.

This man, this secret admirer of hers was the King of England.

—

Author's Note:

Hi guys please excuse any grammar and/or spelling mistakes you find because this was unbetaed. If you haven't noticed this story is set in a AU based partially on the real historical Tudors and the tv show. I hope you guys enjoyed it!


	2. part ii

part ii

_Oh, why couldn't he been the son of Earl or Duke_, Anne thought to herself as she sat staring at him.

This was the King of England standing in front of her. She hadn't expect the King – really anyone besides the _King of England!_ – to appear. Maybe a young handsome – not that the King wasn't handsome because he _was _very handsome – lord or maybe the son of a Earl. Or if she really wanted to make father proud then a son of a Duke would have worked too. She did at one point though it might have been James despite their broken betrothal. Anne swore she even saw James looking at her funny after father had told of the news.

"Mistress Anne, has my handsome looks render you speechless?" jested Arthur watching Anne as she stared dumbfounded back at him. He laughed as Anne leaped from her seat into an awkward curtsey.

Deciding to spare Anne from the misery and the shock of his presence, Arthur walked over closing the distance between the them. He bent down placing his gloved hands on either side of her shoulders and brought her up. Up close Arthur could see how much more captivating her eyes were. The same pair of eyes that months ago grabbed his heart and left him wondering and wanting this beautiful creature.

"Your Majesty," said Anne hesitating not sure what to do. No one taught her how to act when a King took fancy to you. She hoped the King hadn't noticed that she wasn't doing anything but gawking awkwardly at him. A small thought ran through her head making her question how she even attract the King's attention in the first place if she couldn't even act like a normal person in his presence now.

"Mistress Anne, I can very well see your shock. I presume you weren't expecting me to appear then?" chucked Arthur. Despite the display that Anne had made of herself he was charmed by her actions. She looked genuinely surprised and maybe even a little astounded at seeing him.

"No, no of course not you, Your Majesty," said Anne not knowing what else to say. Since the King could clearly see that she was absolutely horrid at concealing her feelings than it was probably best to be truthful.

"Maybe the son of an Earl or if my father would have it the son of a Duke," Anne said weakly, offering a small smile. She hope it would humour the King and not offend him.

"Then your father would be jumping in joy to know that you've got yourself a King," joked Arthur.

Anne starred in panic at the King's words.

"I jest in good nature, Mistress Anne," reassured Arthur. He could see now that his joke had a more frightening effect than comforting her. Taking his hands off her he took a step backwards once again admiring the pretty sight in front of him.

"Father would drop to his knees and thank the Good Lord Jesus before fainting from joy," offered Anne having realized that the King was humouring her. "And then mother would have the servants carry him to his chambers so that he didn't make a fool of himself _again_."

Arthur's loud and bellowing laughter brought a giggle out of Anne. Her giggling face reminded Arthur of the very moment that she had captivated his attention all those months ago. She was magnificent in her beauty and standing her presence he felt awed.

The words had come out of Arthur before he had even realized what he said when he saw Anne's face morphing from joy into disbelief.

"Mistress Anne, give me your permission to court you."

* * *

It had been four days, twelve hours, forty-five minutes and thirty-six seconds … thirty-seven seconds since the King asked Anne those terrifying, horrifying, life-ruining words. And now here she was sitting in her chambers thinking, deciding if she would _let_ the King court her. As if she could reject the King and say, _'No Your Majesty, I do not give you my permission'. _This was much worse than her dealing with Her Majesty's barely concealable dislike and the Duchess' outright rude behaviour.

At least the King had stopped sending her letters giving Anne a small piece of mercy. Really, she wouldn't know what to do if she had to make the decision while receiving those letters. Susan didn't say anything to her when she brought the morning's meal and acted as if nothing had changed but surely she must have been given instructions or _something_.

After that she had tried to avoid the King afraid that something would happen. But true to his words the King had acted like nothing had happen. As if he didn't tell her that she was to become his mistress because that was what she would become – his mistress. This would be nothing like the romantic courtships she's had in France. This was not what she had expected when she agreed to meet her secret admirer. If she were being truly honest with herself, Anne had hoped for a romantic courtship with a noble lord – one that wasn't related to her Howard cousins – that she would treasure before her father had married her off to whichever lord he had chosen. But now the future was so uncertain and she didn't know who to turn to for advice.

She couldn't go to Mary not when she was so far up north and taking care of the baby. Anne wasn't sure what Mary would even say to her if she did go. Would she encourage Anne to become the King's mistress or would Mary tell her to refuse to save her reputation and their family. She couldn't go to her mother especially not when Mary had ruined her marriage prospects by becoming a mistress, albeit a royal mistress. Her mother had already suffered so much heartbreak and hurtful gossip when Mary became the Duke's mistress and she couldn't hurt her mother like that. She wasn't sure how her father would react if she wrote to him about the matter. She wasn't sure if he would push her to become the King's mistress like he did with Mary or if he would advised her to return to Hever to escape the problem. George would probably follow with whatever their father had decided.

Anne wasn't sure what she would do but she was afraid. The small nagging doubt that had grown bigger and bigger had now become her greatest fear. She was afraid that the King punish her and her family if she refused him. The King wasn't like the Duke who had multiple affairs. She hasn't heard of the King being involved in any affairs in his entire union with the Queen. Or maybe it was because he was the King that there was no rumours. Anne wasn't sure if the King had affairs or not but she couldn't stop worrying that the King would get angry and then her family would suffer. Her father already relied heavily on her uncle, the Duke of Norfolk, for connections at Court and she knew how much he resented the fact of the matter.

No, there was no one she could ask for help.

* * *

"Mistress Anne, you will serve the Princess when she meets with Their Majesty's for lunch. I will not have you making a fool of yourself by slacking in your duties, do you understand?" Lady Thimelesy was the chief lady-in-waiting to the elder Princess Mary and one of the sternest lady she knew.

"Yes, Lady Thimelesy," said Anne, dipping into a low curtsey with her head bent down. She could feel her heart thumping against her chest at her words. She was going to see the King!

Anne hadn't received any news from the King since she sent her reply (_Yes.) _and she was starting to go mad from wondering. Had she waited too long to respond and made the King angry or had she made a complete fool of herself that the King no longer interested. Anne didn't know the answer to her questions so all she do was wait. It was excruciating, painful waiting for something when she didn't even know what she wanted.

When she and the rest of Princess Mary's ladies had arrived in the King's private chambers she didn't know what to expect. Anne could see the King sitting beside the Queen with his back turned away from her as he talked animatedly to the Prince of Wales. The young prince Edward, the only son of the King, was a tall but pale boy of twelve that resembled neither his mother nor father. His dark blonde curls and blue eyes were supposedly reminiscent of his late grandmother. Edward was never a healthy child especially when compared to his lively sisters but as each year passed the people sighed in relief knowing that there was an heir to the throne.

Edward's sisters, Isabella and Mary, sat on their mother's side talking quietly to each other. Anne could see the fondness that the Queen held for her youngest daughter Mary as she reached out to smooth the strands of hair on Mary's head. Princess Isabella laughed as Princess Mary tried to shove her mother's hands away.

Anne widened her eyes as Princess Isabella turned to look directly at her as if she could sense that Anne was staring at them. Princess Isabella had the same inquisitive eyes as the Queen. It felt as if the Queen was staring at her telling Anne that she knew _of everything. _Anne dipped into a shallow curtsey hoping that the princess didn't notice her hesitancy but the princess had already turned her attention elsewhere.

Throughout the entire meal, Anne stood quietly behind the elder Princess Mary watching the royal family. Her mistress never called for her assistance having preferred the help from her own trusted ladies instead which had allowed Anne observe them. The King and Queen never once spoke to each other unless someone else had addressed them. They were the cordial to each other but held none of the warm to each other as they showed their children. The young Princess Mary was seemingly unaware of the coldness between her parents unlike her older siblings.

The King did not look at her at all. Anne could feel herself becoming smaller and smaller as each minute passed. At the end when the elder Princess Mary was excused she had hoped the King would look or signal at her to show that he recognized her presence but the King did nothing. She felt the sickening twisting of her stomach as she glanced at the King one last before she left. He didn't see her pleading eyes as she walked away with her shoulders dropped and head hung low.

* * *

She was surprised when Susan told her that the King wanted to meet her the in two days' time. She was so sure that her hesitancy had turned him away but knowing now that the King was still interested she felt unsure. There was fear mixed in with her unsureness and she couldn't help to begin to regret her choices.

Anne was so certain that King had come to regret his decision after not sending a reply even after yesterday's lunch that she began to feel relieved. Relieved that she wouldn't need compromise her honour or her family's reputation. Relieved that she would haven't to make the choice between sacrificing her future for an unknown present. But if Anne was truly honest with herself she was a little disappointed when the King didn't send for. There was a thrill of excitement when she realized that it was the King that she had captivated. She felt powerful knowing that someone as low as her had caught the King's attention.

When Susan came in two days' time she carried a cloak of black velvet with her. Anne knew that it was meant to hide their movements and felt relieved knowing that she would meet the King in private. When they arrived at the small library on the end of a rather hidden hallway, Susan had closed to heavy doors behind her with a thump. The King stood waiting illuminated under the warm glow of candles surrounding him. He looked so much more handsome with his hair loose and free of his crown. He looked nothing like the stern King that everyone saw but a young man full of promises. _The man of your dreams,_ Anne whispered to herself.

She had passed the time just talking to the King about herself because he said that he wanted to know everything about her. He asked her to call him Arthur after she called him _Your Majesty_ for the second time too many. It felt weird to call him _Arthur _but the smile he gave her was so beautiful that she felt stunned. She had never had anyone smile like Arthur did at her. Her heart thumped quicker and she felt her face flush with heat. And when it all ended she left feeling dizzy with wonder as Susan lead her back to her chambers.

She didn't meet with Arthur for another week not until he had finalized the details around Princess Isabella's betrothal to her Spanish cousin, Prince Charles. The Queen had pushed and pushed for the alliance and was in happy spirits when the matter had been settled. Her own mistress had remarked bitterly that she would have become an old maid if the Queen hadn't gotten her wish. Anne had said nothing and kept her head down.

She spent the next meeting listening and watching Arthur talk about himself after she insisted that it was only fair. She wanted to hear the stories he wrote in his letter in person told in person. She wanted to hear his voice, to see his face, and to touch him. She wanted to fall in love with the man in front of her as she did when she read his letters before she even knew the man was the King. And she wanted to him to like her, to want her, to protect her. Or else she would be left with nothing.

The more they meet each other, the more she grows bolder with her actions. She reaches out for his hand to hold them in her own the fourth time they meet. She tucks his leg into hers the sixth time they meet. She thinks that her boldness hides the fear she holds so deeply within her heart. She is afraid that she'll make one mistake and it would cost her future.

* * *

Tomorrow would mark her first Christmas Day in England. Anne had spent all her other Christmas' in France that she hardly even remember what it was like in England or to spend it with her family. Her mother had finally come back to Court after staying with Mary and the baby up north for the past few months. Her baby nephew was growing up to resemble his father more and more with each passing day that only brought more joy to Mary. It did certainly help silence the horrible, nasty rumours that the baby wasn't born to the Duke and she had some ideas on how those rumours started.

She had been excused from Princess Mary's service today as her mistress would be spending the morning with the rest of the royal family before tonight's Christmas feast. George had mentioned that the Christmas celebrations were always the grandest because it was also the Prince of Wales' birthday. This was a special year for the Prince as he would be turning thirteen and soon after would marry his Portuguese bride. She had remember that the King of France's disgruntled face when he told Queen Claude that England had rejected their daughter in favour of the Portuguese Infanta. And not soon after that incident had father called her back to marry James.

Anne had long debated if she wanted to give the King a gift for Christmas but in the end decided against it because what could she give someone who had everything. _Anything I'll give will look like poor, shabby things amongst the gold and valuable treasures_, Anne thought to herself as she wondered around the gardens. It was nearly the noon meal and she knew that she had better start heading back or else she'll be left nothing but scraps.

"Anne!"

Crinkling her brows Anne turned herself towards the direction of her name. She widen her eyes as she turn to face Arthur. His cheeks were flushed with his breath coming out in shallow huffs and a thin layer of sweat on him despite the frigidly cold air. _He had ran here to me, _thought Anne as her lips curved up in a smile.

"Arthur," said Anne, "What are you doing here?"

Arthur had said nothing in return and walked towards her until he literally standing inches. He reached into his sleeve and pulled out a small wooden box. Anne blinked her eyes once, twice before pointing a finger towards herself.

"For me?" she whispered not believing that the King had gotten her a gift. She stared at the box wondering what was inside.

"For you to celebrate your first Christmas here," Arthur said softly, "With me."

Anne looked at Arthur again before turning her attention to the box. She reach for the box and carefully opened the lid. Inside the box was a magnificent pearl necklace. She glanced up at the King in disbelief as Arthur smiled back. He took the pearl necklace out and unclasp it. Taking a step closer, Arthur leaned into Anne as he wrapped the pearl necklace onto her neck. She could feel his warm breath against her cheek as he clasped the lock. She felt her face flush red and skin tingle as Arthur gathered her hair and pulled it out allowing the pearl necklace to rest delicately on her long neck. He reached out and ran his fingers around the necklace sending shivers down Anne.

"Arthur, you didn't have to-"

"No, think of it as my first gift to you," smiled Arthur.

"But I have nothing to for you," said Anne with her eyes downcast. She felt a hot flash of shame run through her body.

Arthur had reached for her chin and titled her face up. Anne saw no anger or disappointment in his eyes and that only made her feel worst. She had gotten him nothing to show him that she too cared for him when he had gotten her such a beautiful and precious gift. She was unworthy of his gift and of his affections.

"Nothing would please me more than to see you wear it tonight," said Arthur admiring the necklace against her neck. He saw the fear in her eyes and it hurt him knowing that Anne was still so fearful of him.

Arthur froze in disbelief as he felt Anne brush her lips against him. He had never acted on any of his desires to kiss her having seen how guarded Anne acted around him. Arthur felt his heart race in excitement as he stared back at Anne. He leaned in closer and place a another chaste kiss on her lips not wanting to wait any longer. He felt Anne grabbing his face as she pulled him in for another kiss.

The wooden box had dropped with a thud onto the cold snow having gone unnoticed by Anne and Arthur as they shared their first kiss. Preoccupied by their kiss they too hadn't notice that it had started to snow.

* * *

Author's Note:

And here is part ii! I hoped you guys liked it and once again sorry if there is any grammar/spelling mistakes as this is unbetaed. If you notice any glaring mistakes please message me and I'll correct it asap. I've also made some minor changes to part i to clear things up for the later parts.


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